


All Promises Are Lies

by Kitsu



Series: Three Times' a Habit [3]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, No Lube, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:58:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6171850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Flint returns from being dead, Vane wants something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Promises Are Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Smut. Pure smut. Because I love these two, and their love/hate relationship.
> 
> Playlist:  
> VNV Nation - Nemesis  
> VNV Nation - Control  
> VNV Nation - Retaliation

_“Now we go find Charles Vane.”_

_\---_

En route to Ocracoke Island Vane had reconciled himself with the idea that Nassau was a dream done for, something to be buried in deep the past and forgotten about as quickly as possible. Its - _her_ \- betrayal stung, her willingness to sell him out just as much. It wasn’t something he was prepared to spend time dwelling on, he told himself - made himself believe it. The past was the past and could be no more.

His resolve lasted until the very moment Flint, or perhaps his ghost, planted his booted feet on Ocracoke beach, and Vane felt his loyalties being pulled every other way. He tried to deny it, tried to deny the dream, even under Flint’s direct castigation. He tried to persuade Flint, _and himself_ , to give it up. He kept telling himself he had no reason to want to go back to Nassau, no reason to meddle in her affairs any longer. He felt nothing for her anymore.

However, he was happy, he realised, happy to see Flint and the _Walrus-_ crew alive. Fearful - when Teach goaded Flint into challenging him outright. When shots rang out and Teach fell, his heart skipped a beat, and he didn’t know whether he felt glad or sad. It skipped twice when Teach rose, blood staining his temple, yet ready to fight further. Vane’s hand twitched every time Flint and Teach’s swords clashed. When Flint  stumbled and fell, he’d picked up Flint’s sword and stepped between the combatants even before he had processed what he was doing. _Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck!_

He’d thrown away Teach’s…affections, or whatever they were...yet again, without even thinking it through, almost without pause - over a single sentence uttered by Flint before the challenge: “Who are you?”

The simple question had led to further ones starting to claw at the edge of his mind. _“What do you want? Where are you going? Which is the life you want to live? How do you want to be remembered?”_

He was slowly starting to realise something - and it wasn’t a truth he much appreciated. Flint most certainly was the Devil and he could make anyone follow him to the depths of Hell - Vane himself included - simply by speaking, his words a dark, dark magic. If there had been a wall anywhere close by, he’d knocked his head against it - hard. _Goddamned it! Goddamned Flint and his silver tongue._

He was starting to regret every single promise he had ever made, them bringing him nothing but sorrows. However, his heart had made the decision about which promise was more important to him, though he left part of that same heart behind on the beach as the launch returned him to the _Walrus._

_All promises are lies, but some lies are more important than others._

\---

Finding a moment of privacy on the _Walrus_ proved far more difficult than on the Man o’ War, but they managed - taking some time to discuss what he had seen on the the Spanish intelligence ship, all the while considering their next move. Vane needed confirmation that he’d done the right thing by walking out on Teach. He found it in the animation of Flint’s face, in the small traces of emotion, even mirth, that glinted in his eyes, and it made him _remember._

It made him see - this was a different Flint than had set out from Nassau, a changed man. That Flint had been hurt, haunted, close to broken, chasing Death with a passion. Something, someone had changed him - inflamed him in his quest for vengeance, yet tempered his madness. Vane wanted to know who now held such power over the New World’s most dreaded pirate - but much more he wanted a taste of this very Flint.

Their situations were very different now from what it had been, and he figured Flint wouldn’t be as easy to persuade this time around. He eyed him, trying to find that same… _something_ . If it was there, it was buried deep, beneath deep, heavy layers of ambition and the need for revenge. Flint was too focused, too driven, to even properly see _Vane_ beside him, but for a cog in some wheel he was turning. It would have to be remedied. He figured being blunt was probably the easiest way to go about it.

Standing up straight, he stretched. Finally catching Flint’s attention properly, feeling his gaze on him, he grinned. “Come on. I need to talk to you in private.” Moving silently, he stalked off towards Flint’s quarters. Reaching the door first, he let himself in, waiting for Flint right inside, his back to the wall beside the door. As soon as Flint entered, he closed the latch shut, cutting them off from the rest of the crew. Looking around, he saw that this cabin was a lot smaller than the one on the Man o’ War, but he could make it work - not that he considered _it_ work.

“What more did you want to talk about?“ Flint asked, turning to face Vane.

“This,” Vane quipped while stepping closer, pushing Flint up against the wall and crushing his lips against Flint’s. He grabbed Flint by his shirt, holding on for dear life. He wouldn’t, couldn’t allow Flint to push him away, not quite yet. Not until he had been reminded of what could be.

As soon as they needed to breathe, Vane watched Flint drop his head back against the wall with a thud. Clear, blue-green eyes stared at him, into him - no sign of the ghosts that had previously haunted him so there - just a calmly burninghellfire. Flint stayed silent, unmoving.

Vane let go, as if burnt. Turning on his heel, he moved away from Flint, towards the other end of the small room. For once, he felt at a loss for words, so he simply stared out the gallery window, into the deep, dark night, at the stars winking above them.

“I…,” he tried, but stopped himself. Every sentence he could think of sounded mawkish. He swallowed. That wasn’t like him and he knew it. He followed Flint because of a promise he had made, one that his conscience - his heart - would not let him break. He followed Flint because he believed in his dream of a Nassau free of England. He’d stood between Teach and Flint because Teach promised him a fleet of ships, power and dominion over men, while Flint promised him a _home_ \- something he never had. Home and the freedom to choose what kind of man he wanted to be.

Turning around again, he found another stretch of wall to lean against, trying to keep his composure, glad his face seldom betrayed what he was thinking. “You came for the fleet. You had to settle for me,” he said, staring at Flint. It wasn’t a question, simply a statement, but somehow it demanded an answer.

“True, I did. I came for the fleet. I was apprised of the situation, told that you got away from Nassau with Teach and the some of the ships. I saw the possibility to garner strength enough to take down Rodgers in one fell swoop. It didn’t pan out - and that mistake was mine alone. I honestly thought I could take Teach down. Pride, I know - I should have listened to you.” Suddenly Flint moved, stalking across the deck, towards Vane. “Again you saved me.” He chuckled quietly. “Last we met… You spoke of habits. You certainly seem to be developing one yourself - how many times is it you’ve come to my rescue now? Charles Vane, my _fucking_ saviour.”

That made Vane chuckle as well. It hadn’t been this particular habit he’d been speaking of, but sure, there were a tiny shred of truth to Flint’s words.

“And now you might even save me, us, save Nassau again,” Flint continued, “- with the information you brought me and your familiarity with Rackham and Bonny.”

“That’s me - Nassau’s goddamned savior. I’m pretty sure that ain’t nowhere close to what history is going to remember me as.”

That drew a another short chortle from Flint. He moved closer, too close for Vane’s comfort at that moment. “‘Somehow, I do owe you… something.” He stepped up to Vane, placing his hands on the wall, trapping Vane between it and himself. “What is it you want from me? Tell me.”

“I…” Vane swallowed.

“Tell me,” Flint repeated, _something_ tainting his voice.

“I want to fucking bury myself in you. I want to fuck you until _I_ am all you can think about - no Nassau, no revenge, no war.” This Flint didn’t need being grounded, didn’t need saving. He needed tempering. He was a storm about to break, a hurricane sweeping in over land, and where Vane had been happy to let Flint fuck him the first times, this time he wanted something different, he wanted to be the one that rode the storm, tamed it.

Flint pulled back some few inches, a crooked smirk on his face. He dropped his hands and unbuckled his belt, simply letting it drop to the deck. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped that as well. Standing half-stripped before Vane, he looked somewhat gaunter than Vane remembered him, but he figured that was what being caught in the doldrums for an extended amount of time did to a man.

Pushing away from the wall, he grabbed Flint by the back of his head, pulling him close. Pushing lips against lips, he tasted Flint, tasted rum and salt and him. His red beard prickled against Vane’s skin, rough and abrasive, but he didn’t mind. It felt like Flint. _Rough and abrasive, indeed… Like the pair of them, both._

Vane’s other hand trailed down Flint’s back, muscles hard beneath his palm, unyielding. Raking his nails along Flint’s spine, he felt him shudder. Dropping both hands lower, he rested them against Flint’s backside - appreciating the opportunity to feel him up. Their precious trysts hadn’t lent themselves to much of that, with Flint in control. This time, however, he was letting Vane do what he wanted, and so he did.

Wanting to feel skin on skin, Vane finally let go of Flint, only to loosen his own belt and pull off his shirt. As soon as he dropped the shirt, he grabbed for Flint again, his mouth and hands exploring every inch of skin - skin so much paler than his own, but coloured by freckles and a slight, heated blush. His palm dragged across the stitched up blade slash on Flint’s upper arm, drawing a hiss from him.

However, Flint didn’t pull away. Instead he grabbed Vane by the hem of his trousers, and maneuvered them both around, until Flint had his back against the wall instead of Vane. He sank back against the wood, leaving it to Vane to keep them both steadied and standing. His hands grabbed for the sill of one of the gallery windows, needing something to steady himself on.

Vane took the opportunity to slide down along the length of Flint’s body, until his knees hit the floor. Resting his cheek against Flint’s stomach, he breathed in the scent that was intrinsically Flint’s - sweat, salt, sea, everything. It wasn’t anything he would ever admit to out loud, but he’d missed it. Missed Flint. _Fuck_ , he didn’t always like the man, but he respected him, and the few times they had fucked had been enough to make him want more. His body certainly liked Flint, it remembered how Flint’s body felt against his own, both from fighting and fucking, and well… No matter how much his mind might sometimes object, Flint made him hard.

He thugged Flint’s trousers off his hips, exposing his cock to the chilled night air. Wrapping his long fingers around it, it felt hard and warm to the the touch. Above him he heard Flint’s head thud back against the wall again, and he looked up to see his eyes closed and his mouth open, his breath caught in his throat. Still studying Flint, Vane leant in, flicking his tongue across the head of Flint’s cock, wrapping his lips around it. Moving hand and mouth in unison, he watched Flint’s face, listened - the short, laboured moans sending bursts of pleasure down his own spine, pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Shuddering, Vane closed his eyes, concentrating on the movement only, the sight of Flint slowly falling apart too much, too distracting. The scents and noises he couldn’t shut out and they egged him on, until his own breath became laboured, and his cock felt painfully hard as it rubbed against his trousers. He dropped his hands and undid the fastenings of his trousers, a slight reprieve, if only momentary.

Pulling back for a moment, he suckled the fingers on his free hand, wetting the digits. He slipped the hand between Flint’s legs, pushing against his his opening as he returned his mouth to Flint’s cock. Sucking and moving, he pushed a digit in, and the sounds from above him intensified. He moved his fingers, stretched Flint, opened him up. Curling his finger, he pushed against that one good spot, at the same time sucking harder, moving faster.

Flint’s hands came away from the windowsill to tangle in Vane’s hair. “Fucking Christ…,” he breathed, pulling hard enough for it to sting. Vane didn’t let that stop him, simply continuing on, relentlessly. A little bit of roughness never bothered him, quite to the contrary...

“I’m going to…,” Flint couldn’t finish his sentence, but it was all the warning Vane needed. He pulled away, just quickly enough to to feel Flint come hard, spilling his seed across Vane’s face, in warm streaks that cooled quickly.

Grinning like a satisfied cat, Vane got to his feet, not even bothered about wiping the come from his face. Grabbing Flint by the hip, he flipped him around, pushed him up against the wall. Pushing down his trousers just enough for his own cock to spring free, he finally wiped the cooling come from his face. He also spit in his palm, before wetting his cock with it. It wasn’t enough, by far, and it was going to hurt Flint, he knew as much, but it didn’t stop him. Flint could take it, and if it was too much, he was certain Flint would make sure he knew.

Lining his cock up against Flint’s entrance, he pushed against it, into it, listening the Flint swearing under his breath. However, he didn’t move to stop Vane, nor say anything beside the quiet curses. Vane pushed until something gave, pushed until he sank in all the way, feeling Flint surround him, hot like hellfire, tight as fuck. Flint had braced against the wall, pushed back, forced Vane.

“Move,” Flint whispered after a moment, the cock in his arse stinging, but the need for _more_ overpowering it. No way in hell he would ever let Vane know, but this was something he hadn’t had, hadn’t experienced since… Since Thomas. _Fuck._ No matter how good being in control felt, no matter how much he’d appreciated fucking Vane, and any others since Thomas... This was something he craved deeply. Dreamt about during lonely nights sleeping alone on his cot. Something only someone he… _fuck_ , trusted, would be allowed to give him. And he trusted Vane enough to know that if he were to backstab him, it wouldn’t be now. Not after what he had just given up on for Flint. There were many things that could make Vane betray Flint in a moment, but none of them were a concern at that moment.

Vane moved, hands on Flint’s hips. He watched himself slide in and out, watched as sweat beaded on Flint’s back, slowly trailing downwards. He learned in to lick a droplet off, taste the salt in his mouth. Flint shuddered at the contact. Vane moved his mouth upwards, to the side of Flint’s neck, his teeth scraping against skin - all the while remembering Flint’s teeth on his own neck. Closing his eyes, he _remembered -_ pulling images and sensations to the front of his mind, overlapping them with what he was experiencing in the present.

Letting go of Flint’s hip, he moved to wrap his hand around Flint’s cock again, finding it more than half hard. Wanting to feel Flint come while still inside him, Vane paced his hand to his thrusts, angling to hit that sweet spot. Flint’s breath spead up again, his head falling forward until he rested his forehead against the wall.

Bracing himself with a hand on Flint’s chest, Vane could feel his heart beat fast against his palm. Fast, but steady, alive. This Flint was no ghost. A demon perhaps, but no ghost.

When Flint’s breath halted completely for a moment, Vane knew what was coming and instinctively tried to brace. Flint came with a hiss, his come spilling across Vane’s fingers. His inside clenched down, contracted, pulsated around Vane. It was too much, too good, and Vane couldn’t hold back. Biting down on Flint’s neck to muffle his curse, he came hard as well, shuddering, barely managing to stay standing. He let go of Flint’s cock, bracing a come-stained hand against the wall to steady himself, causing Flint to fall to his knees, forehead still against the wall.

They stayed silent, breathing, until Flint managed to push himself around until he was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his trousers still around his knees. He was staring up at Vane, eyes heavy, but clear.

“Fuck the fleet,” he finally spoke. “I came for _you_.” _No more pretence._ “I need _you_. I promi-”

“Shut up,” Vane hissed, staring back at Flint. “No more fucking promises, no more lies. Just be who you are and do what you do. I will follow you as long as it serves me well. I will be... _this_...as long as you want it. This is not a promise, it is just what it is. I will make no more promises - they’re all made to be broken. I don’t want to break any more.”

“Then I make no make no promises to you,” Flint said. “Be yourself, that is all I need.”


End file.
